


Catwalks and Catacombs

by SweetKnifeCombos



Category: Carpe Noctem, Vampire: The Masquerade
Genre: Humanity is pointless, Multi, Relationships are for people with humanity, The Echo Chamber, evil!AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-02
Updated: 2017-07-02
Packaged: 2018-11-22 14:49:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11382423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetKnifeCombos/pseuds/SweetKnifeCombos
Summary: Roxana Volkova believes she's left her drama and heartache in the loveless trap that is Metatropolis and begins rebuilding her life with her loving parents and friends in Paris. But when she learns that she's been betrayed, her humanity finally comes to the brink. Her reinvention takes new form as her ideals and relationships change.





	Catwalks and Catacombs

**ROXANA BACK IN PARIS – Close Friend Reports New Boyfriend, Condo**  
**VOLKOVA RETURNS TO THE RUNWAY – Comeback Debut at Milan Fashion Week**  
**WHAT’S HER SECRET? – Roxana Reveals Her Workout Routine**

She eyed the closing magazine stand with a silent arrogance, pushing her sunglasses up the bridge of her nose and her short-lived smirk returning to a distant pout. How narcissistic she must be, she thought, to love her own gaze above all others. Few would appreciate the subtleties sprinkled in her work as much as she did; the way she would angle her portrait shots slightly eschew to ensure her eyes and hair caught the light just so, how her minute changes in facial expression could so drastically alter tone.

Truly, she was a genius, a goddess who through her own divine power blessed herself into physical, immortal form. Color film was invented only to more accurately capture her vibrancy.

The stares of passersby did nothing to dissuade her opinions on the subject. Whether they immediately recognized her or not, they were staring. And how could they resist? She commanded attention, demanded it with every step. She honestly envied the privilege they had in being able to watch her move. How lucky they were to witness her. She remembered repeating these thoughts over and over in her head as a neonate in the hopes that eventually she would believe them. Her humanity had bound her to the insecurities she held before her Embrace.

“But do I belong here?” she would question as she looked back at her adolescence of peasantry and tragedy. The decades to come would not assuage these worries. Time and time again she was betrayed and let down, often by those who touted themselves to be bastions of humanity. Riki Maru, the fool, was reeled in by her beauty and became a useful admirer. He caught her off guard when he finally admitted he had genuine feelings for her, and for a little while she believed him.

And then there was ever idiotic Lily. A guard dog, Roxana had noted to herself in the beginning. Lily was infatuated with her enough to take orders and dumb enough to not ask questions. Well, then she attempted to seduce the succubus she was ordered to kill. After that Lily decided the optimal way to wake Roxana from torpor at the hands of a frenzied Gangrel was to nearly suffocate her in her bed. She shuddered at the thought of being touched by her again. Brazen outbursts, even more brazen flirtations with any woman who passed her outrageously low standards, then admissions of love. Love! The gall! The end was a godsend.

Ross was painful though she wouldn’t admit it even now. He was a funny one and determined in his endeavors. He kept his beliefs close at hand. Even Mother and Father would approve of him despite his lack of status. His love might have meant something. Roxana had sent him a letter explaining her rationale for leaving Metatropolis fully expecting to see him within months. But her letter went without response, and she was left in denial. He loved her, he must have some reason. A position in the city perhaps, she rationalized, or maybe he was off fulfilling another prolonged journey spurred by his good faith.

She learned from grapevine gossip that he had proposed to Ophelia (Ophelia!) only months after her departure. Ophelia then died that same evening to a mage contraption, and upon hearing the news Ross decided to meet the sunrise. Roxana searched the place in her heart where her grief and anger once culminated into an ugliness she didn’t recognize. She found it empty.

 

Her stroll through dusk-lit Paris led to a quaint stone villa nestled in a quiet side street. As she hung her coat, her gaze fell upon the familiar stationary pad in the atrium:

 _Solnyshko,_  
_We will be gone for the rest of the weekend in Cannes. We had some guests from the States who wanted some quiet away from the city._  
_Your father made sure Cecilia had eaten before we left, but I would check on her anyway. She seemed particularly engrossed in her work this time around._  
_xoxo,_  
_Mother_

She sat pensive for a moment; she hadn’t seen Cecilia since the change, and while she knew it would mean little to her, she still remained curious of her potential reaction. The duality of their relationship proved mutually beneficial in the past, with Cecilia capable of handling situations she had trouble dealing with herself. Roxana had been the judge, but Cecilia had always been the axe. With this development, their dynamic would certainly change though she wasn’t sure how it would manifest.

Her curiosity a sufficient motivator, she made her way down into the villa’s cellar. She passed row after row of wine and barrels unabated by the darkness, her stilettos echoing in a satisfying rhythm against the cobblestone floor. She turned on heel between two racks of bourbon barrels to face an imposing oak door. Behind it was a makeshift office of sorts harboring stacks of notebooks, thick texts littering the ground and covering the sizable desk in the corner of the room. A few bones and skulls lay among them marked with pins and paper.

Roxana stepped beyond the clutter to an iron gate on the far side of the room. The wrought iron groaned behind her as she descended the narrow staircase. The rustling of feet and the soft muttering of a single voice at the bottom was promising, she thought. At the base of the stairs stood the pale visage of her friend covered in debris and blood, her hair messily pinned up with a pencil.

“Cecilia, darling, it’s been far too long.”

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter is a tad on the short side, but I expect the next to be a bit longer. Criticism and comments are always welcome!


End file.
